


Partners in Crimes

by Little_Ayakashi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cliche, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Pining, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28777740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Ayakashi/pseuds/Little_Ayakashi
Summary: Fate was anything but a long quiet river. Winter may hug the water in an icy embrace, or summer may sweep away everything in its path, leaving only dry and barren land."So you're driving without a license. Does that mean you're a criminal?""Say that again and I'll let you walk home without any remorse."Or a small and insignificant stream may meet the path of a river and deviate to an unknown destination.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Iwaizumi Hajime
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Partners in Crimes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yapride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yapride/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Yapride!  
> Enjoy your present :)

Three touchs. First that of the libero's two outstretched arms receiving the opponent's powerful serve, sending the yellow and blue ball flying towards the setter's skillful hands. Ten fingers made contact with the smooth leather of the sphere for a fraction of a second before propelling it through the air towards the most suitable person to mark the point. The ball raced through the air to finally be hit by the ace's large and loaded with power hand and explode the block of three people who desperately tried to form an unbreakable wall. The volleyball ball crashing loudly against the brown wooden floor marked the end of the evening practice of the Karasuno High School Men's Volleyball Club. 

"Asahi nice kill!" Nishinoya's loud and confident voice echoed through the gym as the coach ordered the players to put away equipment. The raft of brooms from the storage room and discussions between the teenagers on frivolous topics, such as the next homework or the pretty girl seen yesterday at the bus stop, replaced the sound of whistles and balls bouncing on the ground. In all this cacophony, two eyes met, one brown and the other blue, and they made a decision without even having to say it out loud. "Me and Kageyama are going to practice some more," Hinata declared to his captain and teammate. Daichi looked at him thoughtfully, analyzing the statement from all angles, exchanged a knowing look with the coach and finally delivered his verdict. 

"Don't stay too late and put away the materials well when you're done." 

"Yes!" the first two years answered in chorus before rushing to the volleyball cart so as not to lose even a second of practice. At the same time, the rest of the first years left the gym wishing their teammates a good night, followed closely by the second years. The cheerful discussion between Tanaka and Nishinoya over the popsicles faded into the cold November air as they walked away from the gym. After their departure, it was the turn of the third years and the coach accompanied by Professor Takeda to return home. Asahi wished Kageyama and Hinata a good evening while Daichi warned them one last time not to stay too late, all under Sugawara's amused gaze. 

"I'm sorry guys, my mother asked me to come home early today," Yachi bowed in a perfect ninety degree arc to the two boys who had already started to take the balls out of the cart. "It's okay, Yachi! Be careful on your way home." Hinata's response made the girl straighten up, her blonde hair swaying gracefully in the movement, and she walked away, continuing to apologize again and again. The gymnasium then plunged into a comfortable silence, broken only by the two high schoole students' whistling breaths, Hinata's sudden exclamations or the slamming of the ball on the floor. Outside, the wind was blowing harder and harder and clouds laden with water began to cover the already dark sky, a sign that it was getting late. 

Hinata and Kageyama continued to train for several more hours. One was serving, the other was trying to catch, even though in eighty-five percent of the time Hinata failed miserably, and this pattern recurred until they decided otherwise. Kageyama sent the ball over the net and Hinata flew high, very high, blinding the setter's sight with his flaming hair and his radiant aura, to fetch it and pin it to the ground with a most satisfying noise. The minutes passed without either of them wanting to stop manipulating the ball by any means possible and imaginable. It was during a receiving exercise, punctuated by insults about how Hinata did not know how to use his arms, that Kageyama spoke. "The green scarf Yachi was wearing today was yours, right?" he said, catching the ball perfectly with his two arms outstretched in cuff. 

"She forgot her scarf at home this morning so I gave her mine. Green suits her!" Hinata bent his knees and stretched out his arms, determined to catch the volleyball. 

"Are you in love with her?" Kageyama asked the question so casually the redhead thought he had misheard. The ball, which he had counted on catching perfectly, made contact with his cheek and sent him flying two meters back. Hinata landed hard on his butt as the ball rolled for several more meters. "What kind of question is that? Yachi is our friend!" he shouted as his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment. 

Kageyama blinked, visibly confused. "I thought you loved her. You blush every time she talks to you and you're nice to her." 

"You're really not smart, Kageyama-kun," Hinata retorted as he stood up from the ground. He narrowly avoided a second ball aimed at his head. "I'm nice to my friends. And guess what? Yachi is my friend! Isn't that obvious?" He threw a ball at his teammate to continue their passing and receiving exercises. "And it's not just Yachi, I blush when I talk to any other girl." Hinata ended his sentence by trying as best he could to ignore the blush that was spreading to his neck and ears. He was often intimidated and shy in front of girls because of their beauty and grace, which caused him to blush slightly or excessively. Kageyama did not seem to have this problem, even going so far as to reject brave girls who confessed their love for him. They always ended up running away in tears in the opposite direction because this idiot did not seem to know how to say "no" politely to someone. 

"Why did you ask me if I love Yachi?" asked the smaller one after he finally made a good receive. The ball made a beautiful arc in the air and ricocheted off the setter's outstretched arms. "Tanaka and Nishinoya berated me for rejecting a girl. They said I hadn't taken her feelings into account. So I tought I'd have to ask someone in love for advice to find out how I'll have to reject the next girl." Kageyama watched the bal return to a Hinata whose face was crumpled with frustration. 

"Don't talk like you're getting confessions every day!" 

"I get confessions every day." 

Hinata caught the ball with both hands to end the training, his mother would worry if he did not come home now, and stop himself from hitting the teenager in front of him. Mainly because Kageyama would hit him back with more power than him and Hinata wanted to live a few more years. "Well I'm so sorry I couldn't help you." He wasn't in the least bit sorry. "I'm not even in love with anyone." The middle blocker began to collect the dozens of balls lying around the gymnasium to put them back in the cart. With Kageyama's help, he undid the net and put the poles away in the storage room. The two volleyball players raced to find out who would clean the floor fastest and Hinata won with a few seconds ahead. After making sure all windows and doors were closed and the lights were out, the monster duo exited the gym and headed for the club room. 

The cold air colliding with their skin dripping with sweat made them shiver unpleasantly as the first raindrops fell from the sky. Once in the club room, they swapped their t-shirt and sports shorts for clean, freshly washed clothes that they would take off after they got home. Kageyama finished getting dressed first and therefore left the room without even waiting for Hinata, under the pretext that "he was the one who had the keys to the club room". This guy really needed to learn good manners and community life. A few minutes later, Hinata, with his bag on his shoulder and his cheeks swollen in a sulky pout due to his friend's behaviour, left the room and locked the door. He ran down the metal steps, narrowly missing the sixth step, and headed for the bike parking lot in front of the school gate to get home. 

When he arrived at the scene, Hinata blinked once, twice to make sure his eyes did not twitch. But his eyes had no problem, in front of him were a few bikes left there by the terminal students, the one the principal was secretly using to go and buy lunch during the lunch break, an old metal heap that used to be a bike and a skateboard, two wheels of which seemed to be ready to give up the ghost. And that was it. No trace of Hinata's bike. 

The redhead walked around the school, searched in the bushes and even in that suspicious place where delinquents often hung out but there was no trace of his means of transport. The fine rain was gradually beginning to turn into a deluge while the wind seemed to want to uproot the nearby trees. Not having been able to find his bicycle, Hinata started walking on the side of the main road he usually took to get home. He could not decently call his mother to come and pick him up by car. The poor woman was accumulating sleepless nights because of Natsu's frequent nightmares and was probably already trying to catch up on her lost sleeping hours. 

Among all the thoughts that were rushing through Hinata's tired brain, three questions dominated the sea of useless information cluttering up his skull. Who? It was definitely someone who had stolen his bike. A pile of junk does not magically disappear in a high school without a trace. It did not get blown away by the wind either because, even if the weather was bad, it was not a storm or a hurricane so there was little chance of a locked bike to fly away in the wind. Could it have been a student from the school or someone from the outside who came to steal bikes? Unfortunately this question will surely remain unanswered. 

After "who" came "how?" Since his first year of elementary school, Hinata went to school by bike and always checked that it was properly padlocked before leaving it in the parking lot provided for this workforce. He had seen his friends lament the disappearance of theirs, big tears tracing wet furrows down their cheeks and snot dripping down their noses, as he proudly grabbed the handlebars of his, glad to have listened to the advice of his mother about security and theft. Although it was getting old and rust was starting to appear, the chain with which Hinata padlocked his bike was thick enough to withstand the metal clips used by most thieves. 

Perhaps they had used an adjustable wrench? If that was the case, then the chain must have given way under too much pressure. He still had to wonder "why?" His bike was neither a racing machine nor a collector's item, just an old heap of junk, given by his mother for a birthday long forgotten, degrading under the weight of passing time. Was it to resell the parts? Or the bike will be used for personal purposes? In either case, stealing other people's belongings without thinking about the consequences was not the right thing to do. 

Did the thief think of the owner of the bike before they stole it? Had they thought about the fact that Hinata, not being able to drive home, had to walk the whole way? Kageyama had taken the last available bus, which was why he had left the club room without even waiting for the smallest. He had not wanted to miss his bus. While the setter was surely dozung in the backseat of a heated bus, Hinata, body wet to the bone and hands shaking with cold, had been walking for ten minutes under the tears of the overcast sky of Miyagi Prefecture. 

With each exhale, he saw his breath condensing in the air and forming a white smoke in front of his face. To forget the rain and the wind, the redhead mimed a fireplace by using his hot breath becoming cold in contact with the air. He watched the white smoke come out of his mouth and rise into the sky before disappearing between the rainwater particles. He did it several times in a desperate attempt to forget his shaking body, his ears and face flushed with cold, his hands buried deep in his pockets and his legs moving through the freezing night despite the water weighing down his pants and shoes. 

Hinata was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not hear the sound of horns until two car headlights were aimed at him. He stopped abruptly and watched in confusion as the window of a gray car rolled down to reveal a man in his thirties with a protruding chin, thin nose, ash blonde hair and light brown eyes. "He looks like a foreign..." thought Hinata. He was in a bad position to judge others given that he did have blazing colored hair though. "Hi kid. Are you okay?" The man's voice was half-focused by the pounding rain on the asphalt but the middle blocker managed to hear it. 

"Y-Yes everything is fine! I'm just going home." 

"You're going home? But the nearest houses are several kilometers from here. And you shouldn't be standing in the rain in the middle of a November evening," he said, increasing the volume of his voice to be sure of yourself. Hinata found him noisy. 

"I'm used to it so I don't mind." He resumed his walk but the car came to block his way. The headlights made the raindrops sparkle and cast disproportionate shadows on the ground. "I'm sure you're cold," the man insisted. "Where do you live? I can take you home with my car. It has a heater and there's a thermos of hot tea in my glove compartment." Did he think Hinata was stupid? Indeed, he was not very good with mathematics and English but this kind of proposition was equivalent to that of the suspicious man asking a child if he wanted candy. And everyone knew they have to refuse, no matter what. 

"That's very kind of you but I'm fine." He tried to suppress the tremor in his voice as best he could. If only he had taken the bus with Kageyama, then he would not be here. "I don't think so. Look at you, you look like a doe caught in the headlights of a car." The inappropriate remark made Hinata uncomfortable. Did he just compare him to a doe? He felt the man's piercing gaze burning through his wet clothes and felt so vulnerable that he wanted to run at full speed away from this suspicious person. "I'd rather walk home." The redhead raised his voice slightly to put more weight into his words, to make the man understand that he would not change his mind. No, he did not want to get into his car. No, he was not interested in that thermos of hot tea, which surely did not exist. No, he did not mind walking for several kilometres. And what was this thirty year old's interest in anyway? It was Hinata's business, not his. But it seems that the man did not share the same opinion. 

"How can you walk in this rain when you don't even have an umbrella? Come on, don't be picky and get in the car." You could hear the man's impatience in the vibrations of his voice. For his part, Hinata felt a dull anger boiling in his chest and spreading throughout his body. Why was this guy so persistent? Let him go to hell instead of bothering him. Every minute that the middle blocker spent talking to him was another minute under the torrent of tears from the clouds and in the biting cold of that cursed evening. "I'm sorry sir but I don't want to," Hinata replied, no longer trying to contain his anger wrapped around his words like barbed wire. The man's face was deformed in frustration, showing wrinkles on his forehead, on the corners of his eyes and at the level of his mouth, as he unlocked his car door in an angry movement. "Just get in the car alrea-..." 

"Are you deaf? Or do you have problems understanding? He said he didn't want to get in your car." 

Hinata knew this voice. While the man was trying to take him God-knows-where, another car had arrived on the opposite side and found the road blocked by the guy's car. Because of the rain and the lack of lighting, the smaller one had not noticed him but now that he was bathed in the light from the headlights of the grey car, Hinata could see him clearly. There, in a slightly scratched white car with his arm resting against the lowered window, was Seijoh's ace, Iwaizumi Hajime, casting a cold glance at the man with blond hair. "Now get out of my way or I'll call the police for abduction of a minor." The reaction was not immediate but, after long seconds of hesitation, the thirty-years-old man finally closed his door and pressed the accelerator to sink into the Miyagi mountains, not without casting a black look in the rear-view mirror. 

Hinata watched the grey car pull away until it became out of sight before allowing a long sigh to pass his lips. A feeling of tiredness suddenly overwhelmed him and he had to concentrate to hear Iwaizumi's question. "Aren't you Kageyama's teammate? What are you doing here?" 

"I'm going home," he said for at least the third time that evening. He was tired of repeating the same thing to all the motorists he passed. Was it that shocking for a high school student to want to go to his room, take a shower, eat a warm meal and settle into a cozy bed? 

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, clearly showing that he did not believe him. For a reason he did not know, Hinata needed to justify himself to him. "Someone stole the bike I use to ride across the mountains to get home. So uh, I... I'm using my feet... since I don't have a bike anymore..." The more he talked, the harder it was for his mouth to form a coherent sentence. He could feel Iwaizumi's intimidating gaze analysing him from head to toe, making him lose his strength and lower his head for fear of meeting Seijoh's ace's eyes. 

The seconds passed in an uncomfortable silence broken by the sound of raindrops landing on the hood of the white car and the wind making the nearby vegetation dance violently. Iwaizumi ended up exhaling noisily through his nose, as if resigning himself to taking care of something, or someone, annoying, and unlocked the door of the passenger seat of his car. "I can't let a brat like you walk across the mountains in this shitty weather. Come on, get in," he ordered, pointing with his chin at the seat next to his own. 

Hinata hesitated, gripping the sections of his club jacket with his fingers, which had turned blue from the cold. "But..." 

"Relax, I'm not some weirdo kidnapping you in the middle of the road. Or do you want to be found frozen to death tomorrow morning?" Even if the question had been asked in the tone of a joke, the redhead could not help but shiver unpleasantly at the thought of dying of hypotermia. With an uncertain step, he walked towards the car and opened the door to slip into the brown leather seat. After making sure that Hinata had put on the seat belt, Iwaizumi lowered the handbrake he had applied and made the tyres squeal on the wet asphalt. A sense of relief filled the middle blocker's body as the heat inside the car made his hands and feet feel warm. He remained in a bubble of torpor for a good while, savouring the feeling of well-being spreading throughout his body, until he noticed that something was wrong. 

"Uh... Excuse me but my house is not in this direction..." he pointed out hesitantly. Iwaizumi answered him without taking his eyes off the road. I know," he said. "You live behind the mountains, right? The road is too steep, I don't have enough driving experience to be able to cross it." A white flash followed by a deafening noise echoed through the black sky as the rain increased in intensity, pounding the roof of the car relentlessly. Hinata was startled in spite of himself. 

"I see... Wait, Hinata suddenly turned his head towards his driver, if I remember correctly, the age required to get a driving licence is twenty-one. Aren't you just a third year?" Maybe it was rude to ask this question or maybe it was indiscreet, but Hinata could not control his itchy curiosity, thirsty and hungry for answers. Iwaizumi did not answer directly. He concentrated on a particularly difficult turn, activated the windscreen wipers, their movements sweeping away the water that had sprayed on the windshield, checked the temperature of the heater and tapped his index finger at regular intervals against the car's black leather steering wheel. 

From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the redhaired boy sitting next to him with a annoyed look before sighing longingly for the second time that evening. "I'm not old enough to pass my driving licence but I'm practising driving on almost deserted roads like this one with my father's car. He allowed me to use it when he goes on a business trip." His deep voice accompanied the constant noise of the engine and reached Hinata's ears like the soothing purr of a big cat. 

"So you're driving without a license. Does that mean you're a criminal?" Hinata, in a surge of confidence generated by the feeling of torpor and well-being of being surrounded by heat, asked the question in a light tone in order to appear innocent. 

"Say that again and I'll let you walk home without any remorse." As if to underline the threat now hanging over the shoulders of the middle blocker, the familiar sound of thunder echoed between the grey clouds laden with water and electricity and ricocheted against the rock walls surrounding the road, making the trees shake and the wild animals flee. Hinata shivered with fear. "S-Sorry..." Silence then invaded the car while the redhead, to keep himself busy and forget the nervous outbursts that were preying on his left leg, watched the raindrops run down the window. 

One drop of water, larger than the others, ran past its opponents at high speed and arrived first at the bottom of the window. Unfortunately for it, a smaller drop accidentally collided with another one and became larger. The surge of speed generated by this fusion allowed it to pass the first drop and disappear from Hinata's field of vision. As Iwaizumi finally exited the main road and plunged into residential neighborhoods, Hinata, as if hypnotised by the trail of tears on the glass pane, continued to bet on which drop would be the first to pass a finish line straight out of his imagination. 

It was only when the sound of the car engine stopped that he left the temporary world he had created for himself, a world where the heat of a heater warmed the atmosphere like a fireplace in the middle of winter and the mechanical noise of a car's heart covered the torn screams of the sky. "Where are we?" Hinata asked as he watched Iwaizumi raising the handbrake and unfastening his seat belt. The headlights were not shine far enough for the smaller one to know where he was, all he could see was a gravel driveway lit up by the pale light of the headlights of the car. "At my place," Iwaizumi replied as he took the key out of the ignition. Hinata gave him a look where surprise and anxiety blended harmoniously. "What? At your place? Why?" 

"Where did you expect me to take you? My family doesn't own a hotel a few kilometres from here. And I don't intend to spend a coin to put you up, I've been kind enough for today." And it was on those words that he opened the door and got out of the car to face the rain and wind of that November evening, leaving behind him a Hinata red with shame. Certainly the idea that he would be taken to the eldest one's house had crossed his mind, but the accumulated fatigue and the cold having pierced his skin like sharp ice picks had quickly made him forget all his more or less deep thoughts. 

Hinata got out of the car and could only watch helplessly as his body shook at the sudden transition between the heat of the car and the freezing rain pouring down on him from all sides. He quickly followed Iwaizumi, who, after locking the car, made his way in quick strides towards the door of a typical family home. A white facde, perhaps grey, Hinata could not tell because of the lack of lighting, two floors, a flowerbed at the front of the house, a black tile roof and a garden at the back. Charming. 

Iwaizumi opened the door with a bunch of keys from his suede jacket pocket and invited Hinata in. They entered a medium-sized entrance hall plunged into darkness until the Seijoh's ace decided to turn on the light. "Sorry for the intrusion..." mumbled the redhead as his eyes wandered around. From where he was, he could make out a living room furnished with a large grey sofa with two armchairs of the same colour, an oak wood coffee table and another table, this one larger and made of glass, supporting a television and some decorative vases and plants. 

In the room next door, a worktop rested in the middle of a kitchen equipped with a sink, numerous cupboards, an oven and other objects or furniture usually found in a kitchen. This was all Hinata could see before a towel, thrown by Iwaizumi, landed on his face. "Take off your shoes and follow me. If you don't take a quick shower you'll get sick," the spiky-haired boy led him through the house to light brown wooden stairs after Karasuno's player left his wet shoes in the hallway. 

The wall to the right of the stairs proudly displayed an array of family photos. The more Hinata climbed the steps, the more he discovered the growth of a little boy with a scowl in the face and spiky black hair. The first photo frames showed a baby of a few years smiling or sleeping peacefully in the arms of a newlywed couple. Two steps up, the baby had given way to a child between four and six gripping a worn volleyball ball between his chubby little hands. In several photos, in addition to the child who appeared to be Iwaizumi, a boy with brown hair and a charming smile appeared with an amused glow shining in his brown eyes. "He must be the Great King," Hinata thought as he continued his ascent up the stairs. 

First official volleyball game, school field trips, first day of college, birthdays, promotion to vice-captain, college graduation, first day of high school, parents' wedding, grandma's birthday, New Years and even more. When Hinata arrived at the top of the stairs leading to a corridor, he had the impression of having glimpsed the eighteen years of Iwaizumi Hajime's life, and slightly those of Oikawa Tooru who never missed an opportunity to appear on a photography. There were no children other than the two of them in the photos so Hinata assumed he was an only child. 

Caught in his thoughts, he collided with Iwaizumi's muscular back who had stopped in front of what seemed to be the door of his room. Hinata had to lean against one of the walls of the corridor in which they were standing so as not to fall painfully on his buttocks. Was it a back or a brick wall? He almost fell as gracefully as a horse hitting the top of an obstacle in a horse race. But Seijoh's ace did not seem to care. "Do you have a change of clothes?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. Hinata could not help but thinking how tall he was compared to him. He nodded sharply and put down the bag he had been carrying since he left the club room. 

Unfortunately, the rain outside had not spared anything, whether it was the clothes he had played volleyball with, the notebook containing the list of ingredients Hinata had to buy tomorrow afternoon or the small keychain in the shape of a Mikasa ball offered by Yamaguchi. It was Saturday so he had not taken his lesson sheets, it would have been a disaster if they were all soaked. "It looks like everything is wet. Wait here, I'll find you something in your size." Iwaizumi disappeared into the room and reappeared a few minutes later with a white shirt, a pair of underwear, a worn-out old jogging pants and a pair of differently coloured socks. 

He shoved them into Hinata's arms and pushed him to the left. "Here. The bathroom is the second door on the left. When you're done, come into my room." The tallest one then closed the door, leaving Hinata, who had not even had time to say one sentence, alone in the hallway. He hesitantly turned left and went past the first door, probably the parental bedroom, and stopped in front of the second one. The middle blocker operated the door handle to enter a room covered with black and white patterned tiles. After he had had difficulty getting rid of his clothes, the wet cloth had stuck to his skin, he entered the shower completely naked and turned on the hot water. 

The liquid gushed out of the shower head and dripped against Hinata's icy skin, warming up every available square centimetre. His muscles, once tense and painful, liquefied under the jet of warm water falling down along his shoulders, sliding down his spine like a snow avalanche carrying an unlucky mountaineer through the snow-covered mountains of the Alps, following the curve of his buttocks and finally finishing his run along his calves made muscular by training. 

After savouring the sensation of warmth provided by the hot water, Hinata opened his eyes, which he had closed under the satisfaction of feeling every part of his body warming up, and went in search of a bottle of shampoo and shower gel. He used the first one he found, frenetically rubbing his orange curls without paying attention to the masculine scent emanating from the foam. Once he was satisfied, he let the water slip through the swirls of apricot-coloured threads in his hair to wash away the shampoo in its path. Hinata then began to rub his body with a shower gel that smelled as masculine as the shampoo, his hands coated with the liquid passing over his chest, following the curve of his kidneys and sliding down his legs and then up to his arms, all under the warm rain poured from the shower head. 

If Hinata had the choice, he would stay here forever but he was not the one paying the water bill so he could not enjoy it indefinitely. He reluctantly turned off the water and hesitantly stepped out of the shower, his body dripping with water and his hair wet. He dried his body with a large towel placed by the sink and his hair with a smaller one. Once dry, Hinata's gaze turned to the clothes he had left on the washing machine before going into the shower. Will they fit him? The chances were slim. 

The redhead first put on the underwear and socks that were more or less his size if you did not take into account that the socks almost went up to the knees due to the difference in size. After came the shirt. Was it really the smallest Iwaizumi could find? Hinata felt like he was floating in a dress. The shirt reached his thighs, the collar fell on his right shoulder and his hands were swallowed up by the long sleeves. He certainly was not going to strut like that in front of the vice-captain of the Aoba Joshai men's volleyball team, his pride was at stake. Hinata closed all the buttons on the shirt down to the last button to prevent the collar from slipping to one side or the other and rolled up the sleeves to the elbows so that he could use his hands without being hindered by the white fabric. He then put his legs through the grey jogging pants and pulled it up to his waist. Unfortunately, the jogging pants fell back to the ground with the sound of crumpled clothing. It seems that Iwaizumi has wider hips than Hinata. This thought made him blush. 

A glance at his reflection in the mirror overwhelmed him with embarrassment and shame. But Hinata had no other choice so he folded the old jogging pants, put his wet clothes in the dirty laundry basket, took his bag and walked out of the bathroom, his chest heavy with apprehension. The once long corridor seemed ridiculously short to him and, in just a few steps, Hinata found himself in front of Iwaizumi's bedroom door. With a trembling hand, he knocked twice on the door, the anxiety oppressing him more and more. "Come in." The redhead obeyed the deep voice and entered Seijoh's ace's bedroom. 

The first thing that caught his attention were the many Godzilla posters decorating the light blue walls of the room. Next to the door, a desk where notepads and books were fighting a battle for territory rested next to a bookcase full of manga and novels of all kinds. Hinata swore he saw a shoujo manga. At the back of the room was a large brown wooden wardrobe surrounded by volleyballs, while in the centre lay a low table on a white short-pile carpet. And finally, just below the window, an Iwaizumi, comfortably seated on a bed and caught up in reading a sports magazine, raised his head towards the newcomer. The smallest one noticed that a futon was installed at the foot of the bed. 

"Oh," he said, imperturbably, examining Hinata from head to toe, "it seems I underestimated your lack of height." Iwaizumi closed his magazine and went to the wardrobe, probably to choose his clothes to wear after his shower. 

Hinata frowned. What was that? He had expected a better reaction. 

He ignored the nascent frustration in his chest, consuming the anguish that had once reigned there, preferring instead to go and sit on the soft futon that he supposed to be his bed for tonight. Iwaizumi left the room after telling Hinata to make himself at home, which he did.

"Hey, have you eaten your dinner yet?" 

Hinata did not know what the worst was. The fact that he was caught flipping through an old photo ablum found in the bookcase between two volumes of romantic manga, that he was nibbling on cookies with a dubious expiration date because the taste was... peculiar. (Yes, there you go, peculiar like a sheet of paper mache forgotten at the bottom of a school bag. Hinata had simply thought that "Anything that doesn't kill makes you stronger" before putting a cookie in his mouth). Or the fact that Iwaizumi entered the room with only a towel wrapped around his hips. Droplets of water were falling from his hair that had temporarily lost its spiky appearance, while others were streaming down his muscular chest, bouncing off his abdominals or gliding fluidly down his thick arms. Hinata must have been staring too hard at the tallest one's body because he arched an eyebrow, visibly waiting for an answer. 

The redhead turned his head towards the album so quickly he thought he broke his cervical vertebra. But if breaking it could allow the reddish hue to disappear from his cheeks, then Hinata would gladly do so. "Y-Yeah I've already eaten with... uh... my teammates," he stammered as his gaze tried to focus on a photo in the album and not the towel slipping off Iwaizumi's hips. It was a lie, he had not eaten even a meatbun with his teammates, too busy looking for his deceased bike who had disappeared in the dark night. 

However, the way his stomach was twisting from the effect of the expired cookies warned him not to swallow anything more if he did not want to throw up in the Iwaizumi family's water closet. And speaking of Iwaizumi, was he really going to undress here? But logically, the young man was already naked if one did not consider a towel as a clothe. So should Hinata think he was dressing instead of undressing? However, he did not have the right or permission to criticize what Iwaizumi was doing in his house, and above all, in his room. 

"Good, I've already eaten ramen with Oikawa after training so there's no need to make dinner tonight." 

Hinata, attracted by the sound vibrating Iwaizumi's vocal chords to produce that familiar low tone, risked a shy eye to the side. He realized his mistake when two firm thighs entered his field of vision, quickly followed by a fall of a kidney hollowed out with finesse and refinement. Like the first time, Hinata turned his head at lightning speed. "Photos, photos, photos. Just look at the photos. Nothing else." He jumped at Iwaizumi's amused giggle and almost turned his head away a second time - did he ever learn from his mistakes? - but kept his two amber eyes fixed on the image of a little boy of about nine years old playing in a wheat field. "Don't worry, I'm wearing underwear now." Hinata did not need to look to know that a mocking smile adorned the luscious lips of Seijoh's ace. The remark only reinforced the dark hue that now reached his neck and ears. How embarrassing. He wanted to bury himself six feet underground and never come back. 

Concentrating on the photos became more and more complicated. At each moment of life imprisoned in the camera lens, Hinata could hear a new coat coming to cover the muscular body a few meters from him. Six-year-old Iwaizumi was building a sandcastle on the golden beaches of Okkaido to the rhythm of the fabric rustling of the blue hooded sweater that eighteen-year-old Iwaizumi was donning. After several minutes of heavy silence only broken by the rubbing of the album pages and the breaths of the two young men present in the room, the vice-captain spoke. 

"It's getting late," he said, "I'll turn off the lights." 

With that word, Iwaizumi extended his hand to Hinata. The redhead blinked in confusion. Did he want to help him get up from his sitting position on the floor? A soft and indescribable feeling settled in the hollow of the redhead's chest. It was fiery, like a firefly in a cotton field in the heavy suffocating summer air or a wild flame from a campfire burning loud and clear, chasing the darkness out of the surrounding area. Hinata was going to extend his hand to the large and welcoming one of Seijoh's ace but was cut off by the same ace. "The album." 

"Huh?" 

Iwaizumi frowned. "Give me back my photo album. I told you to make yourself at home, but it seems you've gotten a bit too comfortable." 

Ah, those damn fireflies and the twirling flame in his chest. Hinata bid farewell to all those photos of Iwaizumi and the Great King, and even some of Kageyama which he had barely seen between a few different shots, before returning the album by turning his head in a twisted angle to hide the shame painting his cheeks. He surely looked ridiculous. 

He was ridiculous most of the time, as Tsukishima liked to remind him in a burst of kindness, Hinata did not need his poorly concealed hypocrisy, when he received a powerful spike with his head - "You're going to become more and more dumber if you keep receiving with anything other than your two little arms" - or when he tried to talk to that girl with the long brown curls cascading down her shoulders. Without success. Yes, ridiculous was an appropriate word to describe the many embarrassing situations in which he was the lead actor. Hinata Shouyou was the epitome of the ridiculous and the absurd. 

It took him some time to realise that he was firstly, still sitting in front of the coffee table and secondly, in complete darkness. The only light available came from the street lamps outside the house, dimly illuminating the sidewalk and casting disturbing shadows of twisted tree branches upwards like hands trying again and again to touch the clouds promising peace and tranquillity without ever being able to do so. Hinata crawled towards the futon, praying not to bump into an unidentified piece of furniture. Too late, his left shoulder bumped against the foot of what appeared to be a bed. A shapeless mass moved in the sound of crumpled fabrics until two eyes shining in the moonlight pierced his skull. 

"Be careful." It sounded more like a growl than a advice. A mixture of boredom and impatience served on a tray of irritation and sprinkled with concern. Hinata did not hate it. 

"Yeah ..." 

The redhead finally lay down on the futon after crossing a path strewn with pitfalls. His lids fell over his eyes like the thick red curtains of a theater at the end of a play. End of the story. The new will begin in his dreams.

Well, it looks like that was just the end of act one. The curtains opened as quickly as they had closed on a ceiling as white as Iberis in full bloom. If you squinted, you could see the faint traces of star-shaped stickers that once dotted the cellulare concrete sky. The stickers were probably fluorescent. Hinata felt his lips curl into a tender smile at this observation. 

After having spent such long minutes - or were they hours? - bathing in darkness, the middle blocker could see as if it were daylight. He could see the pile of books threatening to fall on the desk, the clothes looking more like death row inmates than pieces of cloth hanging on the coat rack, the mirror projecting disturbing relics of monsters that were non-existent but yet so present in the collective imagination. In addition to seeing, Hinata could also hear. The regular ticking of the clock hanging above the bookcase, the crackling of the branches resisting the bombardment of fresh water coming straight from the clouds and Iwaizumi's not really regular, almost forced, breathing.

He was not sleeping. Hinata could tell this by the exaggerated lifting of the shapeless mass on the bed in order to appear asleep. Except that humans inflate their belly when they sleep and not their chest as Seijoh's ace was obviously trying to do. Was he embarrassed? Or did he just not want to converse with Hinata? Too bad for him, the redhead had other plans in mind. 

"Are you sleeping?" 

The question floated in a silence punctuated by the sound of the wall clock. Hinata found it soothing. 

"Iwaizumi-san?" he tried again. No answer. The most frustrating part of it all was that he could see the lying silhouette of the tallest person shivering or quivering every time he was uttering a word. To be despised was one thing, to be ignored was another. 

Hinata had not said his last word. He was known for his perseverance after all. And he knew very well that patience was just a fragile and unstable thread that could be broken at any time by anyone, no matter how tenacious the other one was. "Iwaizumi-san?" 

"What do you want?" 

Hinata mentally celebrated his victory. The thought that he was perhaps as irritating as Tsukishima was saying crossed his mind for a quarter of a second but was soon thrown into the abyss of his memory. "I can't sleep." 

"Well, I can. Don't bother me," Iwaizumi grunted. 

A pathetic squeak, albeit voluntary, escaped from the back of Hinata's throat as he mumbled excuses in a fake guilty voice. The guilt of having been so harsh seemed to gnaw at the vice captain from within because his guttural voice broke the heavy silence that had formed after the exchange a few minutes earlier. "How's Kageyama doing?" 

Hinata made every effort in the world not to click his tongue against his palate. Kageyama? Seriously? Even when he was not there, he must have been someone's topic of conversation. An unknown feeling seeped between his bones and organs, taking the form of a snake wrapping its long body slowly but surely around a prey still unconcerned about the dangers that lay ahead. "He's fine, I guess." 

Iwaizumi let out a satisfied sigh. "You know, even though he has trouble expressing himself properly and understanding others, he doesn't have a bad background." 

Hinata could hear in the hollow of his ear the vicious hissing of the snake as he squeezed his chest in a deadly vice. Breathing became less easy. "I know," he replied simply, his eyes glued to the ceiling. He, who had forced Iwaizumi to talk to him, did not want to continue the conversation that had just begun. How ironic. Tsukishima would call it a stroke of fate or the unshakeable law of karma. 

The older one did not seem to want to stop in his diatribe. He had even turned to the redhead's side so that he could talk to him while looking at him. "He's a good kid. Take good care of him." 

"He can take care of himself very well," muttered Hinata. He realized his mistake when silence engulfed the room once again, leaving only the usual, harmless noises as a soundtrack. It was so quiet that for a moment he was afraid that Iwaizumi might hear the snake whispering in his ear. What he did not expect was the burst of laughter, loud and noisy, coming out of the deepest part of the older one's throat. The laughter resounded against the ceiling and Hinata even thought he could see the walls shaking as Iwaizumi's hilarious state made the floor vibrate. 

"Are you... Are you perhaps jealous?" he asked between hiccups of laughter. He seemed to have calmed down, but Hinata could still hear his muscular chest lifting from time to time as he laughed. 

"I'm not!" The redhead shouted in indignation. The snake curled up in his chest told him otherwise. He ignored it. 

"Yes, you are." 

His cheeks burst into flames as he buried himself in the futon to hide his shame. All this was too new and embarrassing for him to understand and, above all, to face it. Perhaps it was the euphoria of the moment or perhaps it was the assurance of that damn snake that had taken up residence in his chest because Hinata risked asking the question that hung from his lips and burned his tongue. 

"And... What if I am?" 

The small and hesitant voice was half suffocated by the futon but he was sure that Iwaizumi heard it. Hinata feared the answer and this feeling only increased as the silence grew louder as the grains of sand fell continuously into the hourglass. Even the snake had stopped its irritating hissing, too busy protecting its territory from a new animal. Hinata did not need an animal analogy to know that this was apprehension. 

"I find it kind of cute." 

The redhead's eyes widened in surprise. He could feel his whole being vibrate under the effect of a single sentence. The snake disappeared, replaced by something new, something unknown. It was soft and warm, like a cup of hot chocolate in the middle of a snowstorm. The white, foamy cream was gently deposited on pulpy lips in a chaste, innocent kiss and perhaps accidentally on a little snub nose. The sweet liquid burned everything in its path, from the taste buds to the stomach to the walls of the oesophagus. The burn was painful but strangely satisfying and made you want more, always more. 

Hinata hesitated a few seconds more, but finally he took his head out from under the futon. He gave up the view he had of the ceiling to direct his gaze towards the bed. Two pupils bathed in an amber sap with golden reflections met a green so dark that it appeared brown. Iwaizumi, his bust raised, observed Hinata's reaction with a wide, tender smile buried under layers of teasing and playfulness and a hand supporting his head. The redhead's cheeks took on an even darker hue than the previous one as his heartbeat echoed throughout his rib cage. He had the impression that his body was just a large pot where his organs simmered according to his feelings and emotions. 

The exchange of glances lasted an eternity. The window behind the bed cast the faint light of moonlight and drew the contours of Iwaizumi's body with the skill of an artist so focused on his pencil strokes that he could not see time passing, flowers fading and souls disappearing into oblivion to be simultaneously replaced by new ones. Only the incessant ticking of the wall clock filled the silence, this time comfortable, that had settled between the two young men. It was only when the small hand indicated that it was one o'clock in the morning that Iwaizumi broke the serenity of the moment, to Hinata's dismay. "We should sleep," he said without turning his eyes away from the amber gaze in front of him. The redhead liked to think that Seijoh's ace was enjoying the view before him. He will probably never know what was going on in Iwaizumi's mind as he looked into his eyes, but he liked to imagine it. 

"Okay..." Hinata was the first to break eye contact as he returned to his observation of the ceiling. Iwaizumi did the same and both eyes were now glued to the white painted cellular concrete. Hinata did not want to lower the thick red curtains on this act yet. A play had several scenes before it had several acts. 

"I forgot to thank you," his voice sounded strangely distant, as if it did not belong to him. Or had never belonged to him. 

"For what?" Iwaizumi was no longer reluctant to speak now. He, too, seemed unwilling to pull down the curtains. 

Hinata turned to the left side and put his legs up in a position he thought comfortable. "For making the guy who wanted me to get in his car leave." 

A grunt was heard, followed by a tongue clicked against a palate. "No problem. You resisted well but it was dangerous. Next time, and I hope there won't be any, call me. I'll make them all cry." 

A small laugh escaped from Hinata's mouth. "Iwaizumi-san," he said, "you're quite scary." He laughed again when he received a louder grunt in reply. "But I can defend myself on my own. And I don't even have your number." 

"I'll give it to you." 

The smaller one cowered even more, rolling his body into a ball and pressing his torso against his knees in a vain attempt to prevent the bomb of new, twirling emotions from exploding in his chest. He could hear every vein and artery of his being pulsating beneath the rapid flow of his blood, expelled at breakneck speed from a heart beating fast, far too fast. Hinata buried his head in the pillow and took a long breath to regulate the frantic beating of his heart, but ended up widening his eyes as a masculine fragrance tickled his nostrils. "Iwaizumi-san," he called without daring to look up at him. 

"Hmm?" 

"I think..." his voice hesitated for a moment, as if he was about to confess a serious sin or that he had broken an expensive vase and had to face the consequences of his clumsiness. The memory of his mother's angry look at the debris of the once beautiful vase made him shudder. "I think I used your shampoo and shower gel." 

A sigh was heard before Iwaizumi's deep voice ricocheted against the bedroom walls. "It's not like you've had a choice. Hope you don't mind." 

Hinata took a deep breath again. The scent was permeated everywhere, whether it was in the shirt, on his skin, or between his orange curls. It was almost bewitching. The scent snaked between the folds of the fabric and the smooth, freshly washed skin to then seep into the redhead's nostrils and send pleasant shivers down his spine. It was masculine, it was powerful, it was ... 

"Iwaizumi-san's smell," Hinata whispered without realizing it, having undone the sleeves of the shirt so he could bury his nose in it. He probably looked ridiculous, like most of the time, but the darkness and the futon were acting as an impenetrable curtain and protecting him from other people's eyes. 

Seijoh's ace sneered at the remark he had, of course, heard. "I guess so." 

"I..." The middle blocker felt the consequences of having walked for so long in the cold and rain right after volleyball training. The tension in his muscles suddenly spread to every nook and cranny of his body. A huge tsunami of fatigue, exhaustion and pain overwhelmed him without even giving him time to prepare. Caught unawares, Hinata could no longer filter the flow of his thoughts and, as if under the effect of a truth serum that came straight out of a child's creative imagination, his lips moved on their own. "I like it." 

Although it was only a whisper muffled by the futon, the curtain of darkness and the atmosphere itself, it reached Iwaizumi's attentive ears. Silence returned to fill the room but Hinata had got used to hearing only the heartbeat of the wall clock every time he said a stupid or risky sentence. Or stupidly risky. The adjective or adverb used did not matter much. What was an adverb again? He was sure he had heard it somewhere between two hours of class. 

Iwaizumi did not let him continue to sort out his confused and incoherent thoughts any longer. "Is that so," he answered him, even though he seemed more talking to himself than anything else. 

Hinata looked up at him one last time. His vision was blurred, the room was plunged into darkness and the shadows hid the little light the window offered, but he still managed to see it. Lit by the pale moonlight and streaked with shadows of tree branches tracing scars as dark as the cloudy sky, a crimson tint was carefully sprinkled over a face trying desperately to appear impassive, in vain. A gentle smile floated on Hinata's lips before the curtains finally closed, the hammering of raindrops on the roof of the house accompanying the end of the act.

He did not know where to position himself. On the chair or the sofa? Maybe next to the worktop. But near the table seemed more appropriate. But on second thought, he should prepare breakfast instead. Traditional or western? Was he even allowed to touch food and utensils in the kitchen? 

Questions. Questions again and again. This was what Hinata had been prey to since dawn. He had woken up in a - slightly embarrassing - position when the sun was already high enough in the sky, and had since then started asking himself a thousand and one questions. Should he get up or should he wait for Iwaizumi to wake up? After much thought he had chosen the second option, too shy to move into a house he knew nothing about, but soon regretted it. 

During the wait, Hinata had the opportunity, not to say misfortune, to repeat last night's conversation over and over again like an old broken film repeating the same scene over and over again. But where did he get the idea to say such things? The memory of him becoming jealous or expressing out loud his opinion about the body odour of the ace and vice-captain of Aoba Johsai High School's men's volleyball team, Iwaizumi Hajime, had come back to his mind in such a violent way that, if he hadn't been in bed by then, Hinata would have fallen under the weight of shame and regret. 

He just wanted to bury himself six feet underground for the rest of his life and never come out again. 

Iwaizumi had finally woken up, more by the frantic movements of a certain teenager not knowing how to stay calm for an indefinite period of time than the song of the birds, and Hinata could finally go to take a shower. His washed and dried clothes waited quietly for him in the bathroom. He had thrown off the older man's shirt with a mixture of relief and regret, though he would never admit it. And that was where he was now, in a kitchen visibly tidy and tortured by his endless stream of questions. 

Iwaizumi was taking a shower and told Hinata to go to the kitchen without giving any further instructions. Just waiting for the bigger one to come and cook for him seemed extremely presumptuous, but using the kitchen as if it had always been his own and without any permission would be just as cocky and rude. Hinata's head was going to explode. He was not used to thinking so much. But if he did not fill his mind with something, anything, then the memories of last night would surge viciously into his consciousness to remind him how carefree he had been. 

"What are you doing standing in the middle of the kitchen? Sit down." 

Jumping would be a very weak word to describe the way Hinata leapt from one place to another at the sound of Iwaizumi's voice. He turned to face him, displaying a sheepish smile to mask his surprise, but his smile fell as quickly as it appeared. A familiar scene from the previous day presented itself to him in the form of Seijoh's ace, only dressed in jogging pants and wiping the water running down his chest with a towel. At this point, Hinata did not understand his own surprise. It seemed that Iwaizumi did not bother with layers of clothes when he was at home, which was totally understandable, he had the right to do whatever he wanted in his home. 

However, what Hinata did not understand was the reaction of his circulatory system to the sight of thick muscles rolling under the skin of the young man with black hair. His heart seemed to have run a marathon when all the redhead had done was go and sit on a chair and nervously watch Iwaizumi harness himself in the kitchen after brief morning greetings. Perhaps if he listened more in biology class he would know that it was because of the adrenaline secreted by his adrenal glands. 

"What would you like to drink?" Iwaizumi's question came to the redhead's ears at the same time as the rumble of a coffee machine. His gaze discreetly turned to the various bottles of fruit juice taken out of the fridge. He wanted to drink some juice. He could already feel the fresh liquid flooding into his mouth and sweeping away the cumbersome and useless thoughts pulsing through his mind. Yes, juice would be the ideal to start on a Sunday. Especially as Hinata needed a good pick-me-up to later face his mother who was surely worried sick. He had forgotten to send her a message to warn her that he would be sleeping at "someone's" place - that someone currently half-naked in a kitchen, Hinata was really doing his best not to look at that muscular back for too long - and could already imagine her panicking. 

"Coffee, please." Nothing was better than a big glass of juice. He was sure that Iwaizumi only saw him as the orange-haired kid and Kageyama's partner. And Hinata did not want him to see him that way. Nor did he know how he wanted to appear to Iwaizumi, though. 

Iwaizumi's shoulders shook as a small laugh escaped his throat. "Yes of course, here's your orange juice," he said with a mocking smile plastered on his face. He leaned against the counter and raised his cup of coffee to his lips, his eyes riveted on the redhead sitting in a chair a few meters, or centimeters, from him. 

Hinata looked at the large glass of orange juice now placed on the worktop sparkling under the rays of the sun shining through the kitchen window. "But I asked for coffee!" His protest seemed to amuse Seijoh's ace even more, considering the narrowing of his eyes and the stretch of his smile. 

"You're too young for that. And I bet you'll find it bitter." 

Hinata frowned. "No, I won't." 

Iwaizumi arched an eyebrow. "Yes, you will." 

The middle blocker grabbed a muffin from the basket in front of him and then planted his teeth angrily in the soft, sweet material. With puffy cheeks and dark eyebrows in a pout, he muttered quite loudly an "I won't" so that it could reach the tallest one's ears. He was behaving like a spoiled child, he knew that, but it seemed to work with Iwaizumi because he finally sighed, resigned. "Do you want to try it?" The question asked with humor and playfulness rang in Hinata's ears like church bells on a wedding day. 

He hurriedly swallowed the piece of muffin and turned his head towards Iwaizumi, his eyes shining with impatience. He reached out his hand to the older one to grasp the cup but Iwaizumi was quicker than him, catching him off guard. A calloused hand came to rest on his chin and slipped over his jaw, forcing Hinata to raise his head slightly. Before he could react, the rim of a cup came into contact with his lips. A burning liquid burst into his mouth and slid down his tongue. The coffee followed its frantic race towards the pharynx and then into the esophagus, leaving behind a new aftertaste. 

"It's bitter!" Hinata could not help but wince at the lack of sugar in the drink. He was sure the coffee had burned his tongue. 

"I told you so," Iwaizumi added, as the thumb of his hand, still resting on the redhead's jaw, came to wipe off a drop of coffee that had pierced the dam that was Hinata's mouth. The thumb remained for a moment on the fleshy lips shining bright red. With his eyes immersed in those of the younger one, Iwaizumi seemed to enjoy their soft touch and did not seem to want to move away. Perhaps it was only Hinata's imagination, but Seijoh's ace seemed to be getting closer and closer, not to say completely invading his personal space. He could admire Iwaizumi's facial features, his skin covering impressive muscles, the few water droplets running from his black hair to his collarbone or the pack of abs looking even firmer when seen up close. From too close up. He felt his cheeks blushing. 

Hinata could not tear himself away from his contemplation, no matter how hard he put into it, but he could at least put one or two words together to form a sentence, hopefully, coherent. "I-Iwaizumi-san," he began, "you should at least put on a shirt..." Said Iwaizumi, who had not taken his eyes off the gaze appearing golden under the rays of the sun, and even less removed his hand, smiled mischievously. 

"Why? Does it bother you?" he asked, voluntarily bending his back down to get even closer to the middle blocker. 

"No! I mean, yes but no... This is your house and you can do whatever you want but..." Hinata was losing his strength as a large torso increasingly filled his field of vision. The reddening already omnipresent on his cheeks was expanding its territory at lightning speed. Was he taking on the consequences of being an annoying kid? Surely. "I... I think it's kind of inappropriate... And I'm sure you would, too, if I started walking around without a shirt on!" 

The dark green look came off the amber one for the first time but only to descend to a neck and the beginning of an exposed collarbone. As the descent continued down his chest, Hinata could not stop a shiver from vibrating all the organs of his body. Although he was dressed, unlike Iwaizumi who was half-naked, he felt completely naked under the black-haired young man's calculating gaze. 

"I wouldn't mind," replied Iwaizumi, stroking Hinata's lips one last time before returning to his original position on the worktop as if he had not caused any cardiac dysfunction in redhead's body. Hinata grabbed furiously the glass of orange juice still lying in front of him and began to drink it in the same way as a traveller who had finally found an oasis after so many days spent under a scorching sun, suffering from a painfully dry throat. He could hear Iwaizumi's amused sneer as he asked for another drink. It was only when he finished the bottle, accompanied by several muffins and fruits, that Hinata could make sure that his heart was beating at an average rate and that his face was no longer as red as the tomatoes growing in his garden. 

A look at the wall clock hanging near the fridge showed him that he had spent more time than expected in that house. It may have been Sunday and there were no classes or practice scheduled, but Hinata had to look after his sister and take care of household chores at home. He picked up the bag he had brought down beforehand, checked its contents to make sure he had not forgotten anything and got up from the chair and walked towards the hall. Strangely, Hinata did not want to leave. 

Iwaizumi, from the kitchen, watched him put his shoes on where he had left them the day before. "Do you want me to take you to the nearest bus stop?" His question seemed to resonate through the walls of the house. Something bloomed in Hinata's chest. 

"No thanks, I'll be fine," answered the middle blocker as he finished tying his shoes. A now familiar silence settled between the two young men as the minutes passed. "Iwaizumi-san?" Hinata nervously grasped sections of his jacket, apprehension following from every pore of his skin. 

"Hmm?" 

"Can I come back?" His voice was slightly higher and shaky than normal. Hinata dreaded the answer as much as he waited impatiently. He knew that just turning his head to Iwaizumi could provide it, but the redhead was not going to. To tell the truth, he did not dare to turn around. He could feel Seijoh's ace's dark green gaze piercing his back as the lingering smell of coffee became almost suffocating. The atmosphere was heavy, far too heavy for Hinata's shoulders. 

"Why would you want to?" Someone once told Hinata that the best answer to a question was another question. A wise choice, a bit like a reverse card in the middle of a game of Uno. When you are stuck to the wall with only two possible choices, you can create a third one to catch the opponent off guard. You save time which you can use as you wish. But you still have to know how to use it wisely. 

"Well," Hinata took his courage in both hands and turned to look Iwaizumi in the eyes, "we're partners in crimes now." 

The tallest one's lips curled into an amused smile. "Crimes? What crimes are you talking about?" He seemed to find the situation amusing. 

Hinata tilted his head to the side to express his confusion. "I mean, you're driving without a license. That makes you a bit of a criminal." 

"Get out of my house, you damn brat," Iwaizumi ordered as his face was twisted into a menacing grimace. 

"Yes, sir." The redhead did not need to be asked twice and walked, not to say ran, towards the front door without daring to look behind him. Once outside, under the cold November air and the raindrops falling from the trees that were victims of last night's flood, he allowed himself to smile. Because Hinata knew he was coming back. What he did not know was that a great burst of laughter echoed through the Iwaizumi family's house after he left.

He watched the freshwater tears slide down the glass and leave behind wet grooves that were soon erased by other tears. The students came and went in the corridor and covered the sound of the raindrops crashing against the floor outside the school building. "Hey, Kageyama." 

The setter lifted his head from the bento he was eating with almost frightening concentration to look at Hinata, sitting on the chair of the desk of one of Kageyama's classmates. No matter how many times he had chased him away, Hinata always came back to his class to have lunch with him. Kageyama had finally given up. 

"What?" 

The redhead played with the food in his own bento with the tips of his chopsticks. "Do you remember last Saturday when I told you that I wasn't in love with anyone?" 

Kageyama arched an eyebrow, obviously not interested. He just nodded as he chewed the rice in his mouth. He should go buy a carton of milk later. 

"Well… I… I think I am now." The reddish tint coloring Hinata's cheeks went oddly well with his sunset-colored hair. 

"You're what..?" 

Hinata glared at him. "I said I'm in love!" 

Kageyama blinked as he gulped down the food and was already about to eat another bite. "Is that so." 

The setter watched with disinterested eyes the middle blocker collapsing on the desk under the effect of his indifference. His cheeks still red, he gazed at the gray sky, shedding liters of tears without interruption. Kageyama suppressed a smile as his partner's expression softened as the sound of the rain pounding on the roof of a car echoed in Hinata's ear. 

"I can't wait for next Sunday..." 

The murmur was completely swallowed by the bell announcing the end of the lunch break.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on Twitter if you want. It's @LittleAyakashi.


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